


Erasure

by lyriumlovesong



Series: The Rabbit and The Lion [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Annoyed Inquisitor, Cullen gets a lecture, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Dalish Issues, F/M, Light Angst, Race, Race relations in Thedas, real talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumlovesong/pseuds/lyriumlovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen gets schooled on race by his smol girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erasure

The keep was bustling with noisy activity after breakfast as Freya made her way out of the dining hall to prepare for a meeting with her advisors. Lost in thought as she crossed the throne room, she jumped when Dorian caught her by the arm.

“ _Fenedhis_ , Dorian! You shouldn’t just go grabbing people without warning these days. You never know who’s got a knife hidden in her boot,” she told him. She arched a brow, noticing the way he was eyeing her with suspicion. “And what’s that look for?”

He had pulled her into a quiet corner of the room, looking around to make sure nobody was in earshot.

“You spent all of breakfast wearing a stupid grin and a faraway look on your face,” he said in an undertone. “And you’re walking like you spent a week on horseback, or something.”

“I’m sorry, are you trying to insinuate something?” she replied, feigning innocence.

“It _finally_ happened, didn’t it? You and Cullen…?” asked Dorian. When she tried and failed to suppress a grin, his eyebrows shot up with glee. “You absolute _strumpet!_ Tell me _everything_.”

Freya gave a snort of laughter, but then hastily composed herself.

“Maybe later,” she said, gesturing with her eyes to someone behind his back. Dorian turned. The Commander was approaching them, having just left the dining hall himself.  
  
“I’ll hold you to that,” said the mage as Cullen reached them.

“Good morning, Dorian,” he said, giving him a genial nod.

“Yes, I’ll just bet it _is_ ,” Dorian answered, smirking. Cullen shot him a confused look, then turned to Freya.

“Right… Inquisitor, I wondered if--after our meeting--I might have a word with you?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just something I want to discuss. Nothing ominous, I promise.” He kissed Freya lightly on her temple. “I’ll see you in the war room in a few minutes.”

He gave Dorian another polite nod and walked off. The mage leaned over to speak quietly near her ear.

“Bet he bends you over the war table.”  
  
“Oh, for Mythal’s sake,” Freya said, rolling her eyes. “ _One time_ , Dorian. It hasn’t even been a full day! And now suddenly anytime anyone leaves us alone we’re just going to go at it on every available surface?”

“Is that an unreasonable assumption?” he asked, looking surprised.

“I mean, do you and Bull-- Actually, you know what? I don’t even want to know. I will happily continue to use all the rooms in the keep in ignorant bliss without the answer to that question.”

“Well, I wouldn’t eat food off any tables in the library, I’ll say _that_ much.”

Freya gave him a look of deep disgust and turned toward the war room.

“And on _that_ distressing note, I have a meeting to get to.”

“Okay, but you still owe me details!” Dorian called after her. She shook her head, smirking, and walked away.

 

_________________________

 

The meeting was considerably brief that morning, for which Freya was grateful. She was preparing for another long trip in a few days, and the list of things she needed to do before she departed was already lengthy enough without adding more to it.  
  
Josephine and Leliana departed quickly afterward to attend to their separate business, and Freya closed the door quietly behind them. Cullen was still stationed at the table, nervously arranging and then rearranging his stack of war reports. She crossed the room to where he was standing and hoisted herself backwards to sit on the edge of the table.  
  
“So, you wanted to talk?” she asked. Cullen looked up, laying aside his papers.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
There was a pause, and Freya raised her eyebrows, looking at him expectantly. He ran a hand over the back of his neck.  
  
“How should I put this?” he asked, casting his gaze around the room. “Last night, when we… you know. Well, I wasn’t very _careful_.”

“You were fine,” she said, furrowing her brow. “You were very gentle. I’m perfectly okay. I mean, a _little_ sore, but that couldn’t have been helped--”  
  
“No, not that,” interrupted Cullen, shaking his head. “What I mean to say is… well, we’re at war, you’re the Inquisitor. It wouldn’t be the best time for you to be, you know… _in the family way_.”

He looked back toward her, apprehension on his face. To his surprise, Freya laughed.

“Is _that_ what you’re worried about?” she asked. He looked nonplussed.

“Well, aren’t _you_ _?_ ”

“Not really, no,” she said, shrugging. “When I left for the Conclave, I had already begun training with my mother to take over for her as Healer, eventually. The Healer, if they're a woman, also works as the clan’s midwife. She delivered dozens of babies, but she also helped prevent women from having them, too. And that’s something she didn’t lose any time teaching her only daughter once I became old enough to need to know for myself.”

“...Oh. Well, I guess that’s that, then.” Cullen had a strange look on his face that Freya couldn’t quite place--something like relief shaded with the merest shadow of regret. After a pause, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Do you want children?”

“Yes, someday. When it’s safe enough again to bring them into the world. Do you?”  
  
“If it's with you? Absolutely.”

Freya smiled at this, but Cullen noticed that it was not an altogether happy smile.  
  
“You do realize that if we have children together, they’ll be elf-blooded?” she asked. “Life won’t always be easy for them. They won’t fit neatly into Dalish _or_ human society. And with us as parents, they won’t be able to hide their lineage.”

“I… guess I hadn’t thought about that,” he replied.

“Really? I have. Quite a bit, actually.”  
  
“I suppose I just forget about things like that because I don’t even really think of you as an _elf_ most of the time,” said Cullen, shrugging. “You’re just… _Freya_ .”  
  
“Freya _is_ an elf,” she said, a slight edge to her voice.

“I know, but… well, isn’t it better _not_ to think about people in terms of their race?”

“No,” she told him bluntly. “It isn’t.”

Cullen stood there, feeling confused. He could tell he had upset her, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

“Okay,” he said, trying to tread carefully. “I can see that this is frustrating you. _I’m_ frustrating you. Talk to me. Please?”

Freya sighed. She leaned back, placing her palms behind her on the table for support.

“When you look at me, I _want_ you to see that I’m an elf. The Dalish have been around for hundreds of years, the Elvhenan for thousands before that. We have an incredibly rich history that’s being sponged out of Thedas's collective memory, bit by bit, every single day. I’m the last person left in my entire _clan_ , Cullen. The last elf with Lavellan blood, the last one who carries our culture and traditions in my heart. I have pointed ears and vallaslin, and I could perform the Dance of the Halla before I could spell my own name, and I’m _proud_ of all that. If you look at me and you don’t _see_ those things and _acknowledge_ them, you’re _erasing who I am_. And I’m sure most Qunari and dwarves would tell you similar things about their own races.”

Cullen was silent, a pensive look on his face. Freya continued.

“I’m not saying you should treat people differently because of their races. But I _am_ saying not to ignore their identities. Be _conscious_ of them, not blind to them.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“Of course not,” she continued, her voice a bit softer now. “I honestly wouldn’t have expected you to. Cullen, you’re a non-magical human man who follows Andraste and enjoys the company of women. There are a lot of things you don’t have to think about because they’re not barriers to you being treated like a _person_. But I would encourage you to try to _start_ thinking about them, especially if you plan to be with someone who hasn’t had all the same advantages you were granted at birth.”

“Well,” Cullen said after a moment, taking a deep breath. “Now I just feel like an asshole.”

“You’re _not_ an asshole,” she said, putting her hand over his. “You just have some adjusting to do with the way you think about things. That can probably be said for everyone, in one way or another.”

There was another pause.

“So this was probably more than you were bargaining for, huh?” Freya asked, a gentle smile on her face. “Racial sensitivity lectures from your sweetheart?”

He looked earnestly at her.

“No, Freya. I’m glad you said something. I don’t _ever_ want you to stop making me strive to be a better man.”  
  
Leaning over, he cupped her cheek in his hand and pulled her into a kiss. She smiled up at him as they broke apart.

“That’s a good answer,” she said, hopping down from the war table. Cullen began to gather his things, and Freya walked toward the door to head to her quarters. She paused at the door, looking over her shoulder.

“By the way,” she said, a smirk on her lips, “Dorian knows about last night. He guessed by the way I was acting at breakfast.”

“Shit,” Cullen replied, looking up. “ _That_ was what he meant this morning.”

Freya nodded, then shrugged her shoulders. “There goes that sterling reputation. Whoops!”

And, with a look that showed she clearly didn’t give a damn, she headed out into the main hall.


End file.
